


I Got the Milk, John.

by wilddragonflying



Series: Post Reichenbach [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: After the Fall, Gen, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Sherlock returns, and he finally gets the milk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes could read everything in a person in a heartbeat. One man, however, still managed to continually surprise him. Several years after they'd first moved in together, and three years after he took his swan dive off of the top of St. Bart's, Sherlock finally gets the milk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got the Milk, John.

**Author's Note:**

> So I found that I couldn't help myself. I had to. I saw on tumblr that someone wanted Sherlock to show up with some milk and be like, "I got the milk, John," and that sparked this.

Sherlock Holmes could read a person’s history in their face, their eyes, even in their breath. He could know them by the way they walked or talked, he could predict their actions by the way their hands moved when they talked.

 

All of this applied to John as well, and yet John still managed to surprise him. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure how, all he knew was that he could predict that John would perform a certain action—berating Sherlock for not getting the milk, for instance—and John would berate him, yes, but he still managed to do it differently every time. Thirty-seven times to date, and John had not repeated one performance.

 

Sherlock wasn’t quite sure why that was, why John would be able to surprise him after they had practically lived in each other’s pockets for the past few years.

 

Then, the day he fell, he realized why. John could still surprise him because John was his blind spot, his weakness, his Achilles’s Heel. He knew what to expect, but he never knew how to expect it.

 

Three years after he fell, Sherlock was standing outside of 221B Baker Street, a gallon of milk held in one hand. He picked up the knocker and hit it against the door three times. Mrs. Hudson came to the door, and he had to catch her as she fainted. When she woke up, he explained to her how he was still alive, and asked her to not tell John. She asked how he knew John was still living at 221B, and he replied that of course John would still live there; he would not leave Mrs. Hudson, and he did not want to live with his sister.

 

She asked what he intended to do. He simply smiled at her and then walked up the stairs, his steps slow and measured. John was not due at the clinic today; today was his day off. He stopped outside of the door to his flat, what used to be their flat, and simply stared at the door. Three years since he had last seen this door, seen what lay beyond it, seen the man who was undoubtedly sitting in his armchair with a good cuppa and the newspaper.

 

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock raised his hand and knocked on the door. Three knocks, the same number he had applied to the downstairs door. He heard John getting to his feet, and frowned. John was using his cane again. The footsteps paused outside of the door, and then there was the sound of the doorknob turning. Sherlock took a step back, not sure what to expect.

 

_Thinner, almost twenty pounds. Bags under the eyes, not sleeping. Nightmares? No, eyes don’t look haunted. Tired. Betrayal, hurt. Resignation. Limp returned without the daily distraction. Hunched in on self, still blames self for failing to talk me out of jumping. Eyes slowly lifting, shock forming. Shoulders straightening, mouth opening. Drop cane, hands forming fists. Eyes hardening, disbelief. Punch to the face? Expected. Brace self._

 

“I got the milk, John.”


End file.
